Page 45 of Hunt Me (Dmitriyev Bratva #1)

M ikhail

Rage.

As I swept my arm across the desk, I took no comfort in the sound of breaking glass or the hard thudding my laptop made when it smashed against the hardwood floor. I threw my arms behind my head, intertwining my fingers as I paced the floor, trying to wrangle in my emotions.

A funeral.

I slammed my hands on the desk and hung my head.

Now I had to plan a funeral.

Sergio had no family other than what he’d shared with the Dmitriyevs.

It was my responsibility to see that he had a proper burial.

At least there were already plans in motion.

The family attorney had already been put on notice.

With the burial plot already purchased and ready, the funeral home notified the day before, I could expedite the burial.

There would be no celebration of life. Only an honorable send-off to a man who hadn’t deserved to die. I wondered who would decide to attend. Funerals were often an excellent method of dragging those responsible out in the open. It was something to consider.

My thoughts drifted to Bristol. If I was truly following my Pakhan requirements as set forth generations before, I’d shut down every emotion regarding her.

Hell, if this were a decade before, at minimum she’d be banished.

Fuck. If my father had anything to do with making the decision, he’d tell me to marry her.

That way she couldn’t create any issues for my family or for the business.

But that was old school and something I wasn’t interested in.

Or was I?

The bottom line was that times had changed since the old days, something my father had refused to accept for far too long.

Even now, he wasn’t happy we were mostly on the straight and narrow.

His initial refusal to accept both legitimate and more futuristic endeavors had stymied our growth and hindered our legitimate businesses. Now there was no turning back.

Yet a war was needed.

The fact the Dmitriyev family was being placed under a microscope continued to infuriate me. The O’Shaughnessys were playing games because they knew I’d refuse to incite violence.

Maybe that’s where I’d gone wrong.

Maybe a taste of the old ways was needed.

Fuck.

I couldn’t get Bristol off my goddamned mind long enough to put a plan together on how to handle O’Shaughnessy.

Standing straight, I let out a deep breath and scrubbed my hand across my jaw. I hadn’t even shaved for three days. What the fuck kind of hold did this woman have over me?

I’d let my guard down. I’d admitted we had a past together. A past. What the hell was I saying? The truth was ugly and damning. The beautiful woman had crawled so far under my skin I was no longer the same man.

Because I cared about her.

My laugh was strangled. The truth was a tough taskmaster.

But business and the family had to come first.

I glared down at the mess I’d created, annoyed with myself. Throwing a damn temper tantrum wasn’t going to change what had occurred.

After glancing at my watch, I headed from the office toward the den. I’d given my lovely guest and the sketch artist enough alone time.

Alessandro had been tasked with discovering the hacker. If he was good as I’d been told, I’d learn something in the next twenty-four hours.

What I’d learned over the years was that time was usually of the essence. With Sergio’s death, the black book stolen, and evidence of our supposed illegal activities surfacing, it was truer than ever now.

I’d also made my decision on how best to handle Bristol.

At least the Pakhan in me had determined the best course of action.

The man had other thoughts and desires, but they would come second.

The Bratva always came first.

Hence the reminder I’d given myself three times during the hour Bristol had spent with the sketch artist.

Now, my patience was wearing thin while my hunger had yet to be sated.

“Thank you for your assistance, Jacob,” I told the gruff man as soon as I walked into the room. He was a low-level soldier, but from what I’d heard, his skills were exemplary. I’d watched him in action for a few minutes, curious how he’d coax her for information.

Bristol had remained nervous, constantly fidgeting as she tried to remember details about the man she’d seen in Sergio’s house. I’d left only when she’d finally relaxed.

As soon as I’d all but dismissed the sketch artist, she turned her head to stare at me. Yes, we were tethered together in a twisted manner, but the passion and limited trust from earlier had ceased the moment we’d left the bedroom.

No longer was I her hero. I’d returned to the status of her kidnapper. That was in both our best interests. If she hated me, she’d be more likely to provide the assistance I needed without her father suspecting anything other than his daughter changing her mind.

I would need to keep an eye on Bristol at all times. I’d dispatch different soldiers to watch over her, ensuring not only her compliance, but also her safety.

There’d been another overdose, the two young men seen on video leaving Kazimir’s casino the night before.

I expected Jack to give me a heads-up call any time this morning to warn me narcotics was sending a detective my way.

Jacob began to gather his things, giving Bristol one last opportunity to look at the sketch. She nodded and he headed toward me, tearing the paper from his sketchbook.

“This will be the only copy,” I told him, quickly glancing at the pad to ensure he hadn’t used carbon paper.

“Yes, sir. As requested.”

“If anyone asks, you don’t know anything. Am I clear?” Given there was a strong chance that someone inside my organization was a traitor, the search for the bastard in question would need to be handled carefully.

And expeditiously.

“Yes, Pakhan. I was never here.”

“Good. You’ll find payment for your services in your bank account later today.

” I glanced at the sketch, hopeful I’d recognize the bastard, but there was no sense of who he was.

The face wasn’t memorable, as if it could be anyone walking down the street.

Either Bristol had been right and she hadn’t been able to see the assailant very well or he was an unknown player.

However, at least I had something to run through our data banks.

He seemed relieved. “Thank you, sir. Please call me if you need anything else.”

“I will.” I followed him from the den toward the front door, letting him out. When I was alone, I took another good look at the picture. Not a single hint of recognition.

When I returned to the room, I noticed she’d turned on the television.

I remained in the doorway, studying her as she stared at the large screen.

Even the lateness of the morning hour didn’t prevent some news channels from splashing the recent overdose.

Fuck. They’d even included a picture of the casino.

The day was just getting better and better.

When the next news story was the one highlighting Jax Shane’s whining about being beaten up, I walked closer, leaning over from behind and taking the remote from her hand. When I flicked it off, she shivered. Perhaps she was remembering when I’d found her inside her friend’s house.

She remained where she was, completely tense. The mug of coffee she’d asked for earlier remained mostly untouched, now cold after the time spent with Jacob. I placed the remote on the console, immediately heading to the window overlooking the pool.

The quiet tension between us was even more palpable than before.

“Did you beat that man up?” she asked in a much quieter voice than I was used to.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

“Because he stole from my casino.”

“Is that how you handle all your naughty guests?”

I chuckled. “Only those with hidden agendas.”

“I can only imagine what you do to someone who steals the resort’s towels or God forbid the fluffy robes.”

As I turned to face her, I realized she was now as nervous, if not more, than she’d been before. “Are you suddenly realizing what I’m capable of, Bristol?”

“No, I pretty well figured that out after reading your impressive dossier.” She lifted her head, searching my eyes.

“What do you want with me, Mikhail? If I had to guess, I’d say you need me to rat on my father.

To weasel my way into his operation like a good daughter, pretending to fight for the cause while you determine his fate based on how reprehensible his treachery is. How close am I?”

“Actually, you’re very good. Perhaps you should be a fortune teller.”

Her laugh was bitter as she dragged her eyes back and forth across mine.

“If you’re searching for my soul, don’t bother.”

“That’s exactly what you need me to think. That you have no soul,” she admitted. “And that your heart is pitch black.”

“But you think otherwise.” I was curious where this was going.

“I know so. I remember the boy who’d fought to save my life and I now know the man who is more worried about my safety than me running to the police or disappearing into the night.”

“Interesting for a woman who’s only known me a couple of days.”

“You seem to forget they’ve been event-filled days, Mikhail.

I also know your type. You enjoy displaying your power, using violence as a tool of interrogation as well as intimidation.

When you walk into a room, you want everyone to see that you ooze power and you have no issue controlling the room or anyone in it.

But at the end of the day, you’re like all powerful men.

You long for peace and quiet with someone you can share your life with. ”

“You give me too much credit.” I could feel the muscles in my body tensing from her accurate read.

She shook her head and rose to her feet. I’d thought she’d be unstable, but her resolve was strong. “No, I don’t. You’re right. You could have extracted whatever information you wanted from me and forced me to disappear. No one would have been the wiser. Not really.”

“Hardly the truth.”